


Piano Lessons

by MostlyStars



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, ernst plays piano, hanschen is impatient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9055639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyStars/pseuds/MostlyStars
Summary: Ernst attempts to teach Hanschen to play piano, but Hanschen has another idea in mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a modern/piano-y rewrite of their vineyard scene, but not entirely, so.... that's that.

“None of this is making any sense,” I droll, lifting my hands away from the keys.

“Just, look--” Ernst starts, leaning over to place his hands in the middle of the piano. He spreads them wide over the keys. With his right thumb, he presses down on a white. “This is middle C.”

He looks over at me to make sure I am following. Even though I cannot tell the difference between that one and any of the others, I nod.

“It’s probably the most important,” he says. “From here, you can figure out octaves and scales and it’s in lots of chords...” Another glance in my direction and he can see he has lost me already. “Here, we’ll try this.”

He reaches over and gently lifts my right hand. For a moment, it feels as if I can’t breathe, but I hide the emotions racing in my mind. He guides it to sit where his hand was, then taps my thumb. “Press this one,” he instructs. I do this and he claps, excited in the way that a small child might be.

It’s adorable.

I leave my hand there as he explains something more. The words pass right by me, though; I am caught up in staring at every inch of his face. His animated eyes, the smile he has yet to drop. It feels as if we are extremely close -- we are both on the piano bench, with only a foot of space between us -- and yet not close enough.

I wonder what would happen if I kissed him right now.

I snap out of my thoughts as he says my name. “What?” I ask.

“I said,” he explains, obviously repeating himself, though not unkindly, “that if you follow the keys to the right, it continues up the alphabet to G. Then, it starts again with A. See,” he says, shifting closer and lifting his hand to cover my own.

I can feel my pulse racing. How much would I be ruining this day if I did kiss him?

With his thinner fingers over top of my own, he presses down to indicate the keys I should be playing. It starts with my thumb -- “Middle C,” he says -- then continues with my index, middle, ring, and pinky fingers -- D, E, F, G.

“Is it starting to make sense?” He lifts away his hand, then twists on the bench to face me.

I am about to answer with a half-certain  _ Sure _ , but instead, I decide I’m done waiting. I’ve never been patient.

I lean forward and kiss him. It is brief and I pull away first, hesitant at his reaction, but it rattles my thoughts and shakes apart the connections in my limbs. I prepare myself to flee the scene --  _ Thanks for the lessons, but I now have to leave and pretend this never happened _ .

But his expression isn’t negative. Or, rather, I can’t read it for any emotion other than surprise. He is frozen, but lets out a small “Oh.”

I hurriedly stand. “This has been lovely, but I should leave. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, failing in my attempt to not rush my words. 

As I turn away, though, he grabs my wrist. “You-- You can’t stay?” he asks in a small voice, hopeful.

He isn’t upset?

Even more, he doesn’t want me to leave?

I school my features to mask the glee I am feeling. “I could,” I answer nonchalantly, but I don’t move any closer.

Ernst stands and walks to me. Even though he is taller than me, the optimism in his expression makes it feel as if he is looking up to me. “Hanschen--” he begins, my name shaky from his lips.

I cut him off, though, with another kiss. I take hold of his sweater and pull him closer to me. It feels as if he is melting under my touch.

Everything about it is bliss.

Ernst pulls away after several moments, both of us breathing in gasps, despite my best efforts to hide it. He doesn’t step back, though, only leans his head forward to rest it on my shoulder. His hand latches onto my sleeve, as if he is scared I will get away.

“I certainly hadn’t imagined  _ that _ happening when you asked for piano lessons,” he says softly to the fabric of my shirt.

Neither had I. The thought had definitely crossed my mind when I asked, but I had only wanted to see him outside of classes.

Was this bad?

I start to step back. “Do you regret this--?”

“No!” he quickly answers, hand still attached to my sleeve, not letting me leave. He meets my gaze. “I really like you, Hanschen,” he says in a small voice, then casts his eyes downward. “Not that I probably should. Or that any of this makes sense…”

I can detect his uncertainty, his self-doubt, coming up in the same way mine had. Before I learned to let go of the fears.

I put a hand on his cheek and he lifts his head again. “Never apologize,” I insist. It had been my intention to add what not to apologize for --  _ love  _ or maybe even just  _ anything that feels as good as this _ \-- but I only reach up and kiss him again.

It feels just as good.


End file.
